Friday, March 27, 2009

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Apparently, iPhone has a new app that allows you to block outbound calls to certain people during certain times. E.g. if you know that you tend to call your asshole ex-boyfriend when you've had one shot of tequila too many, or if after one beer too many you will call that pimply-faced friend you normally wouldn't share a straw with for a hook up, you can prevent yourself from headed down the path of regret with this app.

How awesome is that?!!!

However, I prefer to use it for other purposes. Rather than bootie call while I'm drunk, I tend to head in more of a fill-my-ass-up-with-lots-of-saturated-fats direction. I go for late night pizza, cheesy fries, or the dreaded... nachos! (Oh, nachos, how I love thee. Especially when slathered in sour cream and guacamole goodness.) So I would use this app to block myself from calling for a late night delivery.

Now I just need them to come up with an iPhone app that will send me an electric shock every time I put a nacho to my tongue...

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Last week I did something that could easily be the coolest thing I've ever done in New York City. I received a personal tour of the two dig sites for the new 7 train extension that will transport riders all the way over to the Hudson River/Javitts Center.

My sis-in-law is a bartender and a few of her regulars work on the project and offered to give her a sneak peek. As usual, I forced my into the fun, and told her I'd disown her if she didn't take me along.

When we arrived we were clearly the center of attention. It's not often that two (attractive, if I say so myself) females walk onto the construction site ready for action. After suiting up in hardhats, boots, neon orange vests and safety glasses, we descended into the 110-ft. tunnel shaft by riding down in a cage suspended only by one rope and a crane. The SIL was shitting her pants, while I boogied around and did my "I'm trying to get this boat a-rockin' dance".

Down in the tunnel, we were told to "stay close, hug the wall, and watch out for falling rock and large trucks that may not see you before they run you over." It. Was. Awesome. We saw workers preparing for blasting, engineers working on the $16.5 million tunnel boring machinery that looked like it should be at NASA instead, and pieces of giant hydrolic equipment the size of a 3-story building.

But we learned something down in that tunnel. And I'll tell you what that was. That all men, no matter what the trade, look hot in a uniform when they're dirty, sweaty and working hard. So I'll end this post with a quote from my SIL:

"Man, those tunnel workers were hot. Did you see all those adam's apples???"

Saturday, March 21, 2009

As you may already know, I've been unemployed for almost two weeks. At first I felt like I couldn't relax, because I hadn't accepted an offer yet and I didn't want to feel like a complete lazy person. But now that I've accepted an offer and have gotten many of my projects and errands out of the way, I'm enjoying myself more and more.

There is certainly something to be said for waking up and not caring what day it is. I've also been:- allowing myself to sleep in as late as I want (which unfortunately hasn't been later than 8am)- not putting on makeup- wearing sweatpants all day- living in Uggs- not showering until 4pm- having lengthy conversations with my cats about how cute they are- having dance parties by myself

This brief work hiatus has made me realize that I could be unemployed forever if money wasn't an issue. It's addicting. It's a whole new level of freedom that I've never known before. For example, as I write this I am sitting at Starbucks on my computer and have been here for 2 hours. There's nothing stopping me from staying or leaving--- I have no appointments today, no pressing issues or errands to deal with. I could just sit here all day if I wanted to. There's a freedom in that.

However, I fear that if I did actually have the luxury of not working ever again, one of two outcomes would unfold. One, I would use my spare time to become a gym rat and would get super buff, would eat healthy, and would totally be a MILF (but I would adopt because I wouldn't want a birth to screw up my new hot body). Two, I would resort to wearing muumuus everyday, would stop shaving my pits and legs, and would spend all my time ordering crap online and through HSN. Here is a preview of this second outcome:

Friday, March 20, 2009

This picture was taken in one of those old photo booths the night of my surprise birthday party. Yes, my *surprise* party.

I won't tell you which one I am, but I'll give you a few clues: I don't have a scowl on my face, or a wandering eye, or gaping grin.

It's official. I have entered the 4th decade of life. I am 30. I can no longer truthfully tell the treadmill that I am 29 and weigh 115 pounds... cause now both would be a lie.

I'm not big on parties in general, so I had no idea that my Hubs and BFF had planned a surprise dinner party at one of my favorite spots in the East Village. I thought it was going to be a nice dinner with just my parents (by that I mean my dad and stepmom--- the last time I didn't clarify that my mom had a complete freakout on my comment board), but when we showed up there were 10 of my favorite people waiting for me! It was totally unexpected.

So, the best part of having a birthday party??? Is that I made out like bandit. Everyone gets you a present when you have a party. I never fully leveraged this fact in the past. And I didn't realize just how much I love presents. I made out with two gift cards to lululemon (my new "danger zone"), a gift card to the Apple store which I used to buy a new iPhone (the white one, woo!), a goregous 1890's vintage necklace, a facial, a massage, and a gift card to Cafe Luxembourg. See, I told you... bandit, right?

So anyway, I'm a bad bloggy friend. I know, I know. I haven't visited you all in a week and you have every right to be mad at me. Especially since I'm unemployed and perceivably have all the time in the world to be commenting on your posts like a fiend. So please accept my sincerest apology and know that I haven't forgotten you, nor do I love you any less than before.

And I have *so* much more to tell you... like how I am actually employable, how flirtation will get you anywhere in life, and how I can finally get rid of the muumuus in my closet. That last part was a lie... I don't own any muumuus.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

I don't have much to say today, as it's Day 4 of uneventful unemployment, so I'm leaving you with a funny cartoon from Natalie Dee. If I could crush Natalie up into powder and bathe in a bubble bath of her remains, I would. That's how much I love her.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

And before you give me the sad, pitiful, "I'm so sorry" act... don't. It's all good. I already have one offer and I'm hoping to get a second fairly soon. Fortunately or unfortunately, I probably won't be unemployed for long.

Months back, I mutually agreed with my employer that I would leave, for two reason. One, they are struggling with cash needs; and two, I needed to move onto something new and more stable. Even though I knew I would be leaving months ago, I wasn't sure of the exact date until a few weeks ago.

A small part of me was looking forward to having some time off. I've been so stressed out with the wedding, the death of my mother-in-law, and having to worry about a new job that I just wanted a break. But in this economy, when nearly 10% of the country is unemployed, I feel so guilty for feeling that way. Jobs are like diamonds these days: you hope you're lucky enough to have one and keep it.

So now I have it: a break. Though my first few days have been filled with house cleaning, errands, lunch dates, interviews, laundry, drinking lots of caffeine, and not-fun-stuff. I don't know what I was expecting; but it involved lots of couch laying, tv watching and pizza eating. Though I can't bring myself to do those things. Now that I'm actually unemployed, I feel that I have to prove my worth by NOT slacking and doing productive tasks.

Even within the first 24 hours of being unemployed, I started to realize how much I define myself my what I do. I don't know if that's good or bad. But it's humbling.

There are many more things I want to write about why I left my job and what it means about me. But alas, my co-workers read my blog. So you'll just have to do without. If you're a former co-worker of mine and you're reading this, it's all good [insert Sarah Palin wink here].

Monday, March 9, 2009

I love, love, love Urban Dictionary. I don't just love them because they're my go-to when I don't understand what a cool, young person is saying to me. But I love them because I can peruse the site all day long and then pull crazy unintelligible sentences out of my ass. For example:

"I was late because I had Kitchenhiemer's while wearing my prostiboots and then fell apart like a Robert Hall suit because I tripped and ate it on my face."

OR

"Man, you need to get your shit in one sock. You smell like you ate a box of assholes."

Sunday, March 8, 2009

I just got home from the gym and what do I find? The cat on the computer with a Twitter account. Seriously. I knew she was quite dexterous but she was just typing away like it was completely normal.

I think she got confused and thought that the Twitter logo was an actual bird. Or she thinks that "tweets" are a snack or something.

The worst part is that she's a complete bitch to everyone. Probably because she has no friends yet so she's lashing out at the world. I also think it's lame that she picked her single greatest picture for her profile. So now if some hot little boy cat sees her and is interested he'll have no idea that she's really not that cute in real life. He won't know that she actually has a saggy belly and sometimes has poop on her butt. But alas, this is the world of social networking.

I encourage you NOT to indulge her, but if you are a masochist and want to be insulted by a feline, go ahead and follow her. But didn't say I didn't warn you...

Saturday, March 7, 2009

I got this stupid advertisement targeted to me on Facebook. How do I know it's targeted? Well, all ads on Facebook are. Because members of Facebook fill out detailed profiles, it's super easy for advertisers to know who they are targeting. Example: the day after I changed my status to "Engaged" all I saw for the next 5 months were wedding ads.

But the reason I'm so pissed off is because I was born in 1979, which, yes, is technically the "70's". But c'mon!?!? I am turning 30 in two weeks and you, freakin advertiser, think I need to worry about looking 25!

And what the hell is this woman holding? Is it a baby or a cat? It kinda looks like a baby sloth, does it not? Or an ewok that went on a diet?

PPS - My next Facebook rant will be about getting crap from my friends for posting to many links to my own blog, and not posting enough updates about my boring day-to-day life. I mean, would you rather listen to me wax philosophical on famished ewoks versus baby sloths or hear about how I just finished a veggie burger for lunch?

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Remember when you didn't need to think about what was in the food you bought from the grocery store? Ever wonder why your parents and grandparents were able to eat chicken and mashed potatoes and whole milk every day and not get fat? These are the types of questions I'm pondering this Thursday.

So last night Mr. T and I are in the bread aisle at the grocery store. I hadn't actually bought a loaf of bread in a while, but was craving toast. I'm big on reading labels, so I pick up a loaf that called itself "7 Grain" thinking it was healthy. The ingredients were stunning!!! It was a mile long and mostly contained preservatives and chemicals and food colorings that I'd never heard of. On top of that, one of the top five ingredients was HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP! So I pick up another loaf... and another... and another... and they're all the same! All of the these brands were marketing themselves as healthy by having labels that said "Whole Grain" or "7 Grain" or "9 Grain", when they were actually just the opposite.

I picked up a loaf of Wonderbread, that nostalgic loaf of colorless softness, and perused the label:

The fourth ingredient is HFCS!!! What happened to just good old flour and water and yeast?! When you buy bread freshly baked from the bakery I guarantee you there is no HFCS in it. (I know, I worked at an Italian bakery one summer... the very same summer that I happened to gain 10 lbs. out of nowhere.)

It took us five minutes of checking every single label to actually find one that only contained about 10 ingredients, all of which I could pronounce. I was *furious*!!!

Did you know that study after study has shown that HFCS is directly related to obesity and diabetes? Did you also know that HFCS can be found in MOST of our processed foods? E.g. Yoplait yogurt, salad dressings, lowfat foods like cookies and icecream bars, Special K, other whole grain cereals that claim to be healthy, all sodas, most fruit juices, candy, crackers, fast foods, some cottage cheese, mayonnaise, and so much more.

Just look at the correlation to American obesity and the use of HFCS since the 70's:

I truly believe that our Nation's current economic situation could be related to HFCS and its pervasiveness in our food today. Here's my rationale, spanning the past few decades:

---Americans families get busier as women enter the workforce and stay-at-home moms are less common.---Because moms are working it is harder for them to put homemade dinner on the table.---Their alternative: they buy fast food for their families, either going out or picking it up on their way home from work.---In an effort to produce large quantities of food that tastes good, fast food chains and processed food producers use HFCS as a cheap additive to everything.---Americans get fat because they are eating so much food THAT CONTAINS HFCS.---Americans are depressed because they are fat and unhealthy.---Depression leads to wanting more things to fill the emotional void, thus increasing the concept of "excessive materialism".---Americans are spending more money than they can afford to eat more bad food and buy more things.---G.W. Bush is elected president.---Financial crisis occurs because people are spending more than they can afford.---Everything is in the crapper.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Ok, so I like football as much as next chick (meaning, I watch it when my team is in the SuperBowl), but this is INCREDIBLE!!! Sometimes you forget just how much precision is needed to be a pro-athlete. Regardless of whether you watch or like football, you NEED to watch this. It'll blow your mind.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

This video just killed me. Mostly because of the slow motion. But it just baffles me that there are so many people out there who like to videotape themselves doing stupid things. I realize that they rarely mean to make such asses of themselves, but come on?! This girl can't sing or dance. Yet that is exactly what she has documented for us all to see. Part of me thanks her for that.

You know, I get the part where they post this stuff on the Internet, because if I was lucky enough to have evidence of me falling on my face I, too, would share it with the world.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Notice that I've created my own equivalent of an Onion headline. And the woman in reference is me. Surprise, surprise.

As you know, Saturday I attended the New York 2nd Annual Wine Expo. To someone who appreciates wine, it's the equivalent of an alcoholic falling off the wagon and gleefully falling into a tub of vodka. Except they drown. (Somehow that metaphor doesn't quite work, but stick with me here...)

I attended said event with Mr. T, my BFF, E, her husband K, and another couple who we'll refer to as Kelp and The Persian. So it was a couples trifecta. (Side note: Isn't it interesting how when couples hang out together the women bond together by making fun of the men, and the men bond together by drinking too much?)

So the key to a successful wine tasting, particularly when they are of a large scale and last 4 hours, is to have a plan of attack. To say we lacked one was an understatement.

The Expo started off with a bang (for me, anyway). The only semblance of strategy that we had was to start with a few sparkling wines. In an entire room of wine, it took us nearly 10 minutes to find a table with sparkling wine... and we weren't even drunk yet. But what occurred at this first table set the stage for the rest of the event: me, Sass, being a complete know-it-all and overall pain in the ass.

Here's how it went:

Me: It looks like you have a few sparkling wines here?

Winery: Yes, we have three Prosecco wines.

Me: Great. There are six of us and we wanted to start the day off with something light. What's the difference between the three?

Winery: Well, let's start you off with the Cuvée. It's a bit dry and the lightest of the three.

Winery: Next, we have a rosé Prosecco, which has a bit of sweetness and is smoother than the Cuvée.

Me: (tasting) Oh, that is sweeter. Tasty. Seems to have a bit of a vanilla aftertaste. What varietal did you say the red wine that makes this a rosé was again?

Winery: It's a Sangiovese grape. Let's try the last one, which is 100% Prosecco. What do you think?

Me: (gulping the last one). Whoa. That's good. This would make a nice mimosa. Very clean. What do these retail for?

Winery: About $15 per bottle. Are you in the trade?

Me: What do you mean?

Winery: Well, you're asking all the questions that a dealer or distributor would ask. Are you in the wine business?

Me: Umm. You just made my day, dude. And no, I'm not in the business. But now I have bragging rights all day.

Needless to say, my friends hated me for the rest of the day as I "talked shop" with all the tables. We ended up breaking off into two groups: girls and guys. Here's a recap of what us girls did in our time away from the guys:

--- Slathered ourselves in temporary tattoos that said Chateauneuf de Pape (great French wine!), Anarchy, and Biker. I apparently was the expert at administering these tattoos because I started plastering total strangers with them. I still can't get the damn things off of me.

---Made fast friends with another group of three girls after E started (loudly) passing the blame for a fart that was lingering in the air while we waited in line for the bathroom. The other girls found this to be very amusing (or pathetic) and invited us to their monthly wine dinners.

---Pissed off the hummus lady. Well, I should specify that *I* pissed off the hummus lady. We walked up, she asked what kind I wanted to try, and I said, "All of them". And she actually "hmph-ed" me before proceeding to hand me three preztel sticks, each with the most minute amount of hummus on it. Bitch. What the hell did she expect? Drunk people get the munchies.

---Got under-the-table tastings of some oober-high-end wine from Michael David since the guy remembered us from last year. I regret to inform you that the reason he remembered us from last year was because I kept promising him some free Website consulting and marketing that I never came through on. But, three cute girls flirting with him apparently overrode any hostility he felt towards me from last year.

---Discovered the greatest salsa in the world! I couldn't stop eating it. I just stood there stuffing my face with salsa and tostidos to the point that they had to refill the chip bowl with a new bag before I left. I guess this salsa is made with mango and Australian peppers. Seriously kick ass. Ordering some online right now.

---Had to be physically removed from the premises when the Expo was over. Apparently, when they say that it ended at 6:00 PM they were serious. Our little group (which ended up being us 3 girls, our 3 guys and our 3 new girlfriends) just stayed and hung out with our man, Doug, at Michael David, until some ushers came over and said we had to leave. Naturally, we don't remember much of this happening. But as the rest of our group hastily started to leave, E and I were stopping at all of the tasting booths that still had pourers there. We were begging for more wine as we slowly made our way to the exit. The usher was literally taking us by the arm and moving us along while we protested, "Just one more, just one more!" It would have made VodkaMom damn proud.

We finally stumbled over to Mr. Biggs, with E and I arm-in-arm, weaving in a great big z pattern. I keep having flashbacks of me stuffing my face with nachos, cheese fries and wings. Somehow, I thought it was a good idea to order a margarita. A MARGARITA, PEOPLE! After 4 hours of wine tasting! At least I had the decency to ask for Patrón. Do you see why this was a bad idea from the get go?!?!

My last memory of the evening was The Persian and Mr. T tossing a bag of my leftover fajitas back and forth while I tried to get Mr. T into the taxi. It ended up on the doorstep of Mr. Biggs where someone coming out of the bar would step right into a platter of salsa and sour cream. What assholes we are.

FREAKS LIKE ME...

Sassy Two Tweets

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About Me

I am a sass. And sometimes I wear two socks. Sometimes one. I'm also a mommy of two cats, a second wife (to Mr.T), a runner who will never look athletic, a smartypants, a new yorker at heart but masshole by birth, a shopaholic, a boring ex-accountant turned internet exec, a foodie, a watcher of too much crappy tv, a cheese addict (probably the reason I'll never look athletic), and a wine snob. Oh, and I wish I had an afro.
sassytwosocks [at] gmail [dot] com